


and i'll never say that i'm sorry

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: (i was raised by a television) [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Best Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2334158">heart out of a vending machine</a>.<br/>grant got hot, and now it's time for the annual sleepover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i'll never say that i'm sorry

Skye makes the entire box’s worth of individual microwave popcorn packets.  Which amounts to almost enough popcorn to get her and Grant through sleepover night.  She carries the bowl through the kitchen, back towards the stairs, balancing it as best she can in her tiny arms.

Dad looks up from his armchair.  “Is it sleepover night already?” he asks.

Skye nods.  “Last saturday before school starts.”

“Don’t you two think you’re getting a little too old for this?” he asks.  Skye knows that’s his way of saying ‘I don’t want Grant sleeping over in your room,’ but she’s going to ignore it.

“You’re never too old for movie night,” Skye says.  “Besides, maybe you shouldn’t be talking about what’s age-appropriate,” she adds.  “You still buy dolls.”

“First of all, young lady,” Dad says.  “Those are collectible dolls.  And second, my dolls are not hormonal sixteen year old boys.”

Skye wrinkles her nose.  “Gross, Dad.  Grant’s like my twin brother.”  That’s a lie.  That’s a blatant, bold-faced lie.  She’s a little surprised that she doesn’t just spontaneously combust from the size of that lie.

“Just don’t make too much noise,” Dad relents, with a sigh.  “And let me know when you want me to order pizza.”

“Kay,” Skye says, hopping up the stairs.

“Skye!” Dad calls.  “Is he coming through the front door tonight?”

“The window’s tradition!” she yells back.  

  
  


She and Grant have a lot of weird, stupid tradtions, really, but none’s as old or as stupid as coming in through the bedroom window.  They’ve always done that. She’s 99% sure she started it, when she’d knocked after he’d moved in next door.  They’d been six.   99% sure.  The 1% was after he climbed up to her window the next day, because he’d thought that’s what he was supposed to do.

“You can use the front door, dummy,” she’d told him.

“You didn’t,” he’d replied.

A solid argument.

  
  


She closes the bedroom door behind her and sets the bowl down on her desk.  She checks her appearance in the mirror again.  Casual, and not like she’s trying too hard.  Her tank top is a little flimsy, and her is more of like, a lacy crop-top than an actual bra, but whatever.  She likes it.  Or is she trying too hard?  She grabs her boobs, checks how they look squished together in the mirror.  They’re still so tiny and Grant probably didn’t even really notice that she went up a cup size.  He probably didn’t even care.

She runs her fingers through her hair.  Isn’t the whole point of her friendship with Grant that she doesn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff?  Grant won’t judge her.  Grant hasn’t changed.  Well, he has physically.  But that’s different.  She’s making this weird. 

Maybe Dad is right.  Maybe she should call off sleepover night.  She could say she’s sick, but then Grant would just bring her soup and hold her hand and throw out her tissues for her like he always did.  

Maybe this has been weird for a while.  Maybe she’s just noticing it now.  Not the fact that she’s in love with him, because she knew that, but maybe she’s been super obvious about it this whole time?  Has she been making him uncomfortable?

  
  


There’s a soft rapping on the window behind her.

She jumps in surprise, and she’s not really sure why.  She’s been expecting him all day, she brushed her hair and made the popcorn and picked the movies and changed her sheets and she’s still got…butterflies.

She’s got butterflies.  She opens the window, and entertains the idea of leaning out and kissing him before she lets him in.  His arms are straining as he holds up his weight on her windowsill, and she bites her lip without meaning to.

“Can I come in?” he asks.  “We are still on for this, right? You didn’t text me this morning but I figured-”

“Come in already,” she teases, backing away from the window.  “Nerd.”  It feels a lot like she’s forcing it, but she smiles anyway.

Grant pulls himself up through the window, keeping his height in mind as he ducks his head under the windowpane.

She remembers his growth spurt, and how he used to hit his head coming into her room, and on doorways, and on anything, really.  It had taken him a while to get used to it.

  
  


“Hi,” he offers, when he’s pulled himself into her room.  “You made popcorn.”

“Yeah,” she says.  She’s not really sure what to say, and the silence is so awkward that she might actually die.  She grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl, and tries to stuff it all into her mouth at once.  She regrets this decision immediately, as she tries to chew two cheekfuls of popcorn all at once.

“Skye?” he asks.  “Why are you stress eating?”

She really hates that he knows her so well.  Well, Grant, she wants to say, I’m stress eating because your tee shirt is too tight and you’re too tall and I am at my wit’s end, here.

Instead, she holds up her hand and signals that he should give her a minute.  She’s got like, six kernels stuck in her teeth by the time she’s done, and it’s really unpleasant.  “Oh, you know,” she says.  “Just back-to-school stress.”

He watches her as he takes a much smaller amount of popcorn.  “You sure?”

She nods.  “Positive.”

He chews and stares at her like he’s thinking about something, so she does the most logical thing she can think of: she pelts him in the face with popcorn.  “Stop staring down my shirt, nerd,” she teases, which is not where that insult had been going originally.  She effed that one up.  

Grant almost chokes on his popcorn.

  
  


Skye smiles like she’s laughing at him, and not panicking internally at their situation.  “I picked out some movies,” she says.  “We could watch those or I could kick your ass at Mario Kart or-”

“Or you could play Skyrim while I brush your hair,” Grant offers, finally swallowing down the last of his popcorn.

She nervously touches her hair.  “Why?” she asks.  “Does it look bad?”

“No!” he says.  “No I just- I like your hair.  I didn’t get to brush it all summer.”

She runs her fingers through the ends a couple times, choosing to focus on the orange-blonde color that some of her ends have instead of the way Grant’s looking at her.

“Skye?” he asks.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He’s so sensitive.  Always has been.  She shoves his arm.  “Go get my hairbrush,” she says.  “I’ll set up the TV.”

  
  


Grant Ward is great at sports and terrible at video games, and Skye likes to remind him of this daily.  Maybe even twice a day, if there’s competitive gaming involved.

“Remember how long it took you to win the Battle of Whiterun?” Skye asks.

“I was trying to be strategic,” Grant protests, running the brush through her hair.  They’ve taken over the end of her bed, covered it with snacks and magazines and their bodies.

Dad’s only ‘checked up’ on them two times.  And one time, he brought candy.

She pulls a gummy worm out of the bag and pulls the red part off with her teeth, before offering Grant the green part.  He leans forward and takes it from her fingers.  His lips brush against her and she tries not to shiver.

If she scares him off, she’s gonna have no one to eat the gross green parts of the gummy worms.

“Strategic my butt,” she says.  Grant pulls on a particularly harsh tangle, and Skye winces.  “Hey!” she protests.

“Sorry!” he says, pressing his hand against the back of her head to soothe her.  He idly rubs her scalp.  “Sorry, you’ve got a bad knot, here.”

“I can feel that,” she says.

“We’re almost done,” he promises.  “Then Mario Kart?”

“But I’m about to fight the dragon on top of the mountain,” Skye whines.

Grant resumes brushing her hair.  “I don’t understand why you have to kill them,” Grant says.  “We can talk to some dragons, why not all of them?”

“Um, because they’re time traveling monsters?” Skye answers.

“If I was a dragon,” he says.  “Would you try to kill me?”

“I don’t know, Grant,” she says.  “Would you be breathing fire at me?”

“Never!” he says. “I’d never hurt you.”

“Would you let me ride you?” she asks.

He stills.  She stills.  Whoops.  That one’s a whoops.

“As a dragon.  Could I ride on your back?”

“Oh!” he says.  “Yes.  Totally.”  He runs his fingers through her hair.  “I’m finished, by the way.”

Skye pauses the game.  Turns to look at Grant over her shoulder, holding her hairbrush and still just.  Staring at her.  “Had fun?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, almost absentmindedly.  He strokes her hair.  “You’re really pretty, Skye.  You know that?”

She might throw up all of a sudden, and she has no idea why.  Just on Grant.  What is he even doing?  What’s wrong with him?  What’s wrong with her?

“I mean,” she starts, and hopes something witty will come out.  “So are you?”

He blinks.  “Really?”

She looks at his long eyelashes and his sharp cheekbones and wrinkles her nose.  “Really.  Loser.”

“I’m not a loser,” he says, poking at her side, where he knows she’s ticklish.  “You are.”

She tries to hold back her giggles and fails.  “Stop,” she gasps, because he’s just full out tickling her now, and he’s the worst person in the whole wide world.  “Grant stop you’re gonna make me pee!”

She notices that he’s managed to get her splayed on her back, and he’s almost on top of her.  He notices, too.

He leaps back off the bed, and almost knocks over her lamp.  “Shit-” he says, steadying the lamp.  “Shit, sorry.  Do you want to go ask your dad about dinner?” he says.

Skye wishes she hadn’t told him to stop.  “Sure.”

“And then Mario Kart?” he asks.

She sits up.  “You are so eager to get your ass handed to you!” she says.

“Am not,” he replies.  “I’ve been honing my skills.”

She smirks.  “In a cabin.  In the woods.”

“I whittled!” he protests.  He wiggles his fingers.  “I honed my dexterity.”

“Ooh, SAT word,” she says.

“Dexterity isn’t an SAT word,” he says.  “Harangue.  That’s an SAT word.”

“Plaudit,” she replies.

He raises his eyebrow.  “Is that a challenge?” he says.  “Because I had nothing to do all summer but whittle and study for the SATs.”

“Tawdry,” she says.  “Obdurate. Laceration.”

“Blighted!” he shouts back, interrupting her.  “Haughtiness.  Obfuscate.   _Lachrymose.”_

“What did you just call me?” she asks.  They stare at each other for a beat before bursting into giggles.

  
  


“Can I have some of your pizza?” Skye asks, settling down next to Grant.  The couch in the living room is a better place for pizza than her bed, and dad would probably have a fit if they stayed upstairs all night.

“You have your own,” Grant tells her, gesturing to the plate on the coffee table.  “It’s right there!”

Skye leans forward and takes a bite out of Grant’s pizza anyway.  If he’s just going to hold the plate at her head-level, what else is she supposed to do?

“Fine,” he says, putting his plate in her lap and reaching for her dinner.  “You have that piece.”

She slaps his hand. “That’s my piece,” she tells him.  She shoves his plate back to him.  “That’s yours.”

“But you took a bite out of it,” he whines.

“I was testing it for you,” she says, picking up her own pizza.  “You’re welcome.”

“Fine,” he huffs.  “Then I get the first bite of yours.”  He moves towards her as she jerks her food away, shrieking with laughter.

“Gross, you have boy germs!” she yells.

“Oh my god grow up,” he teases.  “Gimme some of your pizza!”

“No,” she whines.  “Stooop it.  Graaant!”

They’re laughing and he’s reaching for her and there’s a lot of touching going on right now, actually, despite the fact that they’re just eating pizza on her couch.  He’s got his hand on her knee and she keeps grabbing at his wrists and he’s got the cutest smile on, and wow, she is really, really in love with him.  Maybe when he reaches for her food again, she could intercept him with a kiss?

No.  That’s stupid.

“Skye?” Grant asks her, because she’s spaced out again.  Again!  “You with me?”

She shakes her head.  “Grant, I-”

Dad flops down on the couch, right next to Skye, grabbing the remote.  “Hey guys!” he says, like he isn’t the biggest moment ruiner in history.  “What’s on the TV?”

Skye and Grant look at each other for a moment before shrugging in tandem.

  
  


Dad goes to bed early, like at 10 pm, because he’s old and boring and likes to go for runs in the morning.  Sometimes Skye makes fun of him for it, and then he reminds her that  _true patriots_ are early to bed and early to rise, and she usually tunes out after that.

The point is, she and Grant can yell curses at each other while playing Mario Kart 8, but not too loudly or Dad will come in and make them both go to bed.

Which sucks.  John never makes them go to bed early.  John stays up later than they do, even.  Her dad is super lame.

“How are you beating me?” Grant half-whispers, nudging Skye with his shoulder.

“Because you suck!” Skye declares, then remembers to drop her voice.  “Because you suck,” she whispers, and shoves him back.

He swerves off the road, and into the ice lake.  “HEY!” he yells.

“Shh!” she hisses.

He has the decency to look embarrassed.  “Sorry!” he whispers back.

She’s in an easy first place, like always, and he’s in dead last, also like always.

“Skye,” he says, turning the white wheel far too sharply for a proper turn.  “How mad would you be if I had a blue shell right now?”

“I’d literally burn your house down,” she says.

“Oh.  Well, um, that’s unfortunate.”

“Grant!” she hisses.  “Grant, what did you do?”  The screeching warning on the screen followed by her kart being flung into the air is enough answer.  “I’m going to murder you!” she screams.  She hits him with her wheel.  “I am going to kill your entire family!”

“Ow!” Grant responds, which is the only proper response to being hit in the shoulder repeatedly with a piece of white plastic.  “Quit it!”

“You son of a bitch!” she yells.  “I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry!” he protests.  “Ow! I’m sorry!”

There’s a pounding on Skye’s door.  “Kids,” Dad calls.  “Do I need to tell you to go to sleep?”

Skye settles back on her heels and pouts again.  “No, Dad,” Skye says.  “We’ll switch to something less loud.”

“Thank you,” he says.  “Goodnight, princess.”

“Night, Dad,” she says, turning off the Wii.

“Goodnight, Grant.”

“Night, sir!” Grant says.

“What do you wanna watch?” Skye asks him.  “I have horror, I have action, I have-”

“Can we watch Spirited Away?” Grant asks, giving her one of his more hopeful looks.

“We’ve watched it so many times!” Skye says.  “We watch it like, every sleepover.”

“It’s our movie,” he says, quietly.  “I mean, I think it is.”

She doesn’t really know what to say to that.

  
  


She dozes off a little, during the movie.  Not because she doesn’t like it, but she knows it so well that it’s kind of soothing at this point.  And so is Grant’s arm, which is wrapped around her shoulder, though she doesn’t really remember that happening.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” he asks.  “I’m pretty tired, too.”

She nods.  “I can stay up,” she offers.

“Nah,” Grant decides.  “We’ll get up early and make pancakes tomorrow instead, okay?”

She feels warm in his arms.  He’s pulled the covers up over them a little, and his chest is so comfy and he smells so good.  “Kay.”

“I’ll go brush my teeth,” he says, pausing the movie.  He pulls away from her, leaving Skye to take off her bra and change into her pajamas.

It isn’t until the water starts running in the bathroom that she remembers something very, very important.

They always share a bed on sleepover nights.

  
  


This is stupid.  This is so stupid.  The air conditioner’s blasting and it’s still too hot in here.  She should at least be trying to sleep, instead of laying here, staring up at the ceiling, pretending she doesn’t want to curl against Grant’s body and do all the things she’d read about.  Ugh!  She didn’t even know how to do that stuff, and she doubted he did either, and what if he’s already asleep?  She couldn’t look at him.  If he’s not asleep, he’ll catch her looking, and that’s the worst thing.

This is frustrating and tense and she’s so mad at herself for making this whole thing weird.  She’s mad at Grant for using that puberty kick to turn himself into someone that was probably too hot for her, anyway.

What if he didn’t want to be her friend anymore when school started?  What if he got a girlfriend?

Stop it.  Stop.  Grant wouldn’t just leave her.  He’d known her forever.  He had to care about her, right?

Skye rolls onto her side, facing Grant.  He’s just like her.  Staring at the ceiling, wide awake.  She can’t do this.  She can’t deal with this.

“Grant,” she whispers.

He doesn’t move.  “Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Me neither.”

“Roll over,” she says.

He does.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.  “Am I taking up too much space?”

Skye shakes her head.  “It’s too hot.”

“Do you want my blankets?” he asks.

“Can we play the secrets game?” she asks.

She thinks his breathing speeds up.  But she’s not sure.  “Right now?” he asks, voice cracking at the end of the question.

“Yeah,” she says.

He pulls the blanket a little closer to his body.  “Okay.  Do you wanna start?”

She didn’t, but she will.  “I stole a pair of sunglasses from Target this summer,” she whispers.  “I didn’t really want them, but I wanted to see if I could.”

“Skye!” Grant chides.  “You could’ve gotten arrested.”

“I’ve read about it in the magazines, though,” she says.  “They only let you off with a warning if it’s your first time.”

“Please don’t steal anything else,” Grant says.  “If you get caught and go to juvie I’ll have no one to talk to.”

“I won’t, then,” she says.

His hand slides up, rests between them on the pillows with the pinky extended.  “Pinky swear?”

She hooks her pinky around his.  “Pinky swear,” she replies.  “Your turn.”

“I drank one of John’s beers at the cabin,” Grant says.  “It was late and I was the only one up and I was curious.”

Skye doesn’t point out that their pinkies are still locked.  “How’d it taste?”

He shrugs.  “Kind of weird,” he says.  “Like, I’ve had some before but never a whole one to myself.  And never that quickly.”

“I drank last summer with the seniors,” Skye says.  “That’s my next secret.  I’m sorry.  I know you didn’t like them so I didn’t want to tell you.”

He’s frowning.  She can tell.  “It’s okay,” he says.  “I just don’t like the way some of them look at you.  I’m worried they’ll hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself, Grant,” she says.  “Not a lot of choice when you’re away all summer.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, and she regrets even saying that to begin with.  But she hates it.  She hates that Grant goes away all summer.  It’s not fair.

“Grant,” she whispers.  “Your turn.”

  
  


He takes a moment.  Just lays there, with his arms wrapped around himself.  “I really missed you this summer,” he says.

It feels like a victory.  “I knew that already,” she teases.

“No,” he says.  “I really, really missed you.  I thought about you every day.”

Why is it so stupidly hot in her bedroom?  She brushes her foot against his shin.  “Gross.”

He lets out a quiet laugh.  “Don’t kick me,” he whispers back, moving his leg.  He brings his knees up so that his feet are level with hers.  He pushes her feet back to her side of the bed.

“Hey!” she protests, pressing against his feet.  “It’s my bed.”

He moves forward with his whole body, taking up space.  “Well learn to share,” he teases.

She shoves him back, and he grabs her wrists and pulls her under him and she’s trying to roll away as he pins her legs, she’s laughing, maybe too loudly, but this is who they are and it feels so good to just be near him, to just do this, and she arches her back to get out of his grasp and-

Oh.

Oh.

He drops her wrists like she’s toxic, and almost rolls out of the bed.

“Grant,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry,” he says back.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to but you were laughing and wiggling and you’re so warm, Skye and I’m so sorry it’s my fault I’m so-”

She snakes her arm around his waist, rests her hand on his hip.  “Grant.  Can you roll over, please?”

“I don’t-”

“Please?” she asks.  She could cry.  She could cry because she doesn’t want to lose him, and this might be the worst decision she’s ever made but she can’t just ignore it.  She can’t and she doesn’t want to.

He rolls over again.  She nods in appreciation, and reaches her hand forward, to the front of his pajama bottoms.

  
  


She knows what an erection is.  And when she touches Grant’s, he almost jumps.

“What are you-” he asks, and then she squeezes a little and he groans.

“Do you not want me to?” she asks.

“No,” he says.  “I mean- Please don’t stop, Skye.” 

She strokes him through his pajamas, and she has absolutely no clue what she’s doing, really, but he’s burying his face in the pillow and letting out little whimpers so she has to be doing something right.

Right?

She stops, for a moment.  Moves her hand up to his stomach.  “Grant,” she whispers, moving closer.  “Grant.”

He looks at her, and she’s practically squished against him, and she hopes her breath smells somewhat decent she brushed her teeth before she went to bed and oh, what the hell-

She kisses him.

  
  


It makes her feel sticky and warm all over, from her stomach, curling under her shorts and up through her chest.  He kisses her with little nips and growls, grabbing her hair and pressing his legs between hers, like he’s trying to keep her in place.

It’s wet and breathless and makes her whimper and want more, want this forever and ever, want him, want him to never stop-

“Skye,” he whispers, against her lips.  “Oh god.  I’ve wanted this for so long I just-”

“I love you,” she whispers.  She’s sixteen and not entirely sure what it means, but she does mean it as best she can.  “I’ve loved you forever.”

He kisses her without giving her room to breathe.  His lips are flush against hers, their noses are squished together, he’s practically on top of her and she loves it.  She wants to stay under him where it’s safe.

“I love you,” he says, wrapping her into his arms.  “I love you so much and I missed you so bad.”

“Please keep kissing me,” she says.  “We can deal with your, um-”

“Oh god,” he whispers.  “Skye, I have no idea how to have sex.”

“Jesus christ,” she says back.  “We’re not going to have sex, Grant,” she says.  She doesn’t know how, either.  Well, she does in the technical sense, and she’s heard about what it feels like, but she’s never tried it herself.  But she’d like to try it with Grant, sometime.  She’d like that a lot.

“Oh good,” he says, kissing her jaw.  “I was worried.”

She presses another kiss against his lips.  “Nerd,” she whispers.

He laughs.


End file.
